


we are golden

by worry



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gay Bonding, Gen, M/M, implied tegan/bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-05 20:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13395411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/worry/pseuds/worry
Summary: “Well,” she says, “I must have the wrong - um - address, so I’ll just be going now—”“No,” the Doctor says, and shuts the TARDIS doors without thinking. “Who are you?”“Who are you?” she counters; she looks over at Tegan for a moment, looks - flustered? - smiles - looks back, right into the Doctor’s eyes. Oh.“I’m the Doctor. I asked first.”“You’re not the Doctor. You don’t look like him. The Doctor is, uh, gray.”(Prompt: CAN i get a fucken uhhhhhhhhh five meeting a different era companion of your choice? (or if u dont want to choose then bill))





	we are golden

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Tegan mutters, her shoulders sinking down & her face blatant with exhaustion, “but Turlough’s right.”

 

Turlough holds his hand up, squeezes his eyes tight-shut. “Please don’t say that… ever again. It’s too - weird.”

 

“Trust me, I won’t,” Tegan says; it’s the exact opposite of reassuring, soaked thick in sarcasm. “My point is, Doctor, that in the past few days I was stalked by a creepy Eternal, Turlough tried to kill himself, and a guy with a bird on his head almost got to kill you - because of Turlough, but—”

 

“I told you I never wanted that agreement—”

 

“Sorry,” Tegan says sincerely. “I was merely pointing it out. What I’m trying to say is that we’ve had a rough week, and we _do_ deserve some down-time. So do you, no matter how much you don’t want to admit it.”

 

The Doctor sighs; he finally notices the tension in his body, rolling and pulsing; _he is so good at ignoring stress until he isn’t, until he breaks apart and falls and_ _turns into shattered timepieces on the TARDIS floor. They will try to put him back together doll-like, stitched right up, which hurts the worst_ —

 

They’re right. The tension in his body, the pull of muscle and bright circles in his eyes - he deserves to relax. It is hard to adjust to relaxation.

 

“I see,” is all that he says.

 

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” Turlough smiles, “we can get back to travelling space and time despite the inevitable dangers of it soon enough.”

 

“ _Well,_ ” the Doctor says, slamming his hands down excitedly on the TARDIS console, springing himself back into usual form, “let’s go, then, shall we?”

 

Tegan and Turlough breathe in relief; he can tell that they, for some reason, thought that convincing him would be harder, that they think he _likes_ the danger—

 

that can’t be right—

 

No.

 

The problem is that Turlough is holding his hand now and he can’t stop thinking about the future - he’s seen the whole of it, he’s seen all, and he can’t stop - he just _can’t -_ too many possibilities, time ever changing and unfolding, a beautiful spiral—

 

Right now, here, stuck-tied to reality _now_ he has friends and love and they’re both beautiful—

 

 _Of course,_ he thinks, and immediately afterwards, like a spark of magic, the TARDIS stops abrupt, sending him forward, forcing Turlough from his hands and Tegan down onto the ground, because nothing is ever easy, is it? Is it? Nothing is that simple - everything is that simple - everything is complex - everything is a beautiful spiral, a perfect equation - take your pick, dig deep into his thoughts, figure it out, unfurl the treasure. Go on.

 

It doesn’t - it just doesn’t matter. He grounds himself. This is normal.

 

“Are you both okay?” he asks, rushed and alarmed, helping Tegan off of the floor.

 

“I’m fine,” Tegan replies, shaking her head, “and I’m definitely looking forward to this vacation.”

 

Turlough nods in agreement and the Doctor laughs, spirals into himself—oh he treasures this, unfurls—he would do _anything_ —the future is supposed to be like a light but instead it’s more like an endless tunnel, an endless search for—for—for—

 

For enlightenment. For what he has now.

 

“Are _you_ okay?” Tegan asks, and he’s about to sigh or give a _yes_ or smile or do s o m e t h i n g helpful when—

 

“Doctor, is it just me, or did your TARDIS change a bit on the outside—”

 

He doesn’t recognize that voice. They all turn, and he panics only momentarily before that realization beams in: _this is the future he hasn’t come to terms with yet._ It terrifies him, how easy it is to figure these things out now.

 

There’s dead silence and shock deep in her face. “ _Well,_ ” she says, “I must have the wrong - um - address, so I’ll just be going now—”

 

“No,” the Doctor says, and shuts the TARDIS doors without thinking. “Who are you?”

 

“Who are _you?_ ” she counters; she looks over at Tegan for a moment, looks - _flustered?_ \- smiles - looks back, right into the Doctor’s eyes. Oh.

 

“I’m the Doctor. I asked first.”

 

“You’re not the Doctor. You don’t look like him. The Doctor is, uh, gray.”

 

“ _Please tell me I don’t get gray,_ ” he thinks, and - oops - it’s out loud.

 

“What?”

 

He sighs. “You must be a friend of the  future version of me.”

 

He half-expects her to go _what do you mean ‘future version’ what’s going on,_ but instead she just looks over at Tegan again. “So, you’re like, the Doctor, but from the past?”

 

“Technically.”

 

“Cool.” She smiles. “I am _so_ going to make fun of my Doctor for that outfit when I see him again.”

 

“I don’t blame you,” Turlough snorts from next to him, breaking the dead silence from his companions. This is going to be - interesting. “So, you’re a friend of the future Doctor? Is he - um - hot?”

 

“ _Turlough,_ ” the Doctor snaps, but all that Turlough does is laugh.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know?” Turlough asks, interested.

 

“Well, I mean, there a billion ways to answer that question. One - ew, I don’t look at him like _that,_ and two - I’m a lesbian, so, that’s also a thing.”

 

Tegan _beams._ “You know, Doctor,” she says, and looks a similar flustered, “I like your future friend.”

 

“Oh, really?” she asks, and walks in slowly, approaches Tegan _slowly,_ shakes her hand. “I’m Bill.”

 

“Tegan,” comes the response, and they shake hands for _much_ too long. It’s actually adorable; he hasn’t seen Tegan like this since Nyssa—

 

Turlough coughs. “You two stop flirting. I want to know more about this future Doctor.”

 

Bill looks over at him, smiles. “Why are you so interested, anyway?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s because I love him.”

 

“Turlough,” the Doctor starts, “you—”

 

“What, you encourage me to be curious and the _minute_ I start asking questions you complain?”

 

“It’s not that. I—”

 

“Whoa,” Bill says, “ _whoa, hold on a second._ ” She giggles. “Is everyone here… gay?”

 

“Pretty much,” Turlough says, and Tegan follows with a _yes,_ which is, in turn, followed by a reluctant _basically_ from the Doctor. Did he just admit—

 

 _Isn’t it obvious?_ Of course he does. This sure is an - advancement. Love. They _love._

 

“Well,” Bill says, holding back another smile and failing terribly, _terribly_ at keeping it in. She looks longingly at Tegan for a moment, lets the smile through - and looks back at the Doctor. “I should get back, probably.”

 

“Yes,” the Doctor says, “I think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Um, bye, then,” she says softly, and as Bill turns & exits, the Doctor feels comforted; the future is okay. He has no reason to fear it.

**Author's Note:**

> pls tell me what you think, kudos + comments appreciated! :3


End file.
